Victims of Circumstance
by CaptainRelius
Summary: My first attempt at a fanfic. After an awkward encounter with a District 2 Career after being reaped for the 74th Annual Hunger Games, Peeta reconsiders his feelings toward the love of his life, Katniss Everdeen, and the bane of his life, Cato. Slash, rated M for future chapters. R/R would be much appreciated too!
1. Prologue: Infaustum

"Peeta Mellark!"

The shrill voice of the neon woman on the stage called out into the silent crowd before her. I look around for the unlucky sap who's just been reaped for the 74th Annual Hunger Games.

I notice nearly every pair of nearby eyes on me, a maelstrom of emotion. Some sympathetic, some jealous, some angry. And I think, some happy. Oh. That's right, it's me. I'm Peeta Mellark. The son of a baker, from District 12.

As I find myself walking towards the stone stage, I feel myself slowly coming back to reality. The fact I have just been chosen to die for the entertainment of people I don't know or care about hasn't exactly sunk in until I realise who I'm stood on the stage with. Aside from the… colourful, to say the least... woman who sticks out like a sore thumb here in District 12 – Effie Trinket, I think her name was – there was the girl I'd spent my life watching and loving. Katniss Everdeen.

Oh, right, she'd just volunteered herself for the Games to save her little sister. The first volunteer from District 12, too. Thoughts and memories were crashing through my brain, and I ignored the world as I tried to make sense of them. Before I knew it, Effie was taking my hand and leading me into the Justice Building along with Katniss. The heavy doors slammed and bolted shut behind us, completely ruling out the possibility of ever returning to normal life. If I die, that's it. If I win, I have to spend the rest of my life helping other tributes and keeping up appearances for the citizens of Panem.

My fate was now set in stone.


	2. Chapter 1: Novus Vita

The next day and a half were a blur. My family coming to visit me in my room in the Justice Building. My father and eldest brother giving me their condolences and telling me things such as, 'Never give up', 'Fight on', and 'You can do this, try for us, please.' Whereas my mother and other brother are completely disinterested, already given up on me. My mother telling me Katniss has a much better chance of survival than me. I can't blame her; Katniss is an impeccable shot with a bow and arrow. Years of hunting in the woods with that tall friend of hers. What can I do to survive? Lift sacks of flour, or maybe bake one of my enemies a cake as a bargaining tool. As soon as I get on the train, I silently eat, not speaking to anyone. Katniss, out of shyness and sadness. Effie, out of a complete lack of things in common. And that drunken slob, Haymitch. Frankly, I didn't speak to him because he infuriates me. I can see him being an amazing help to us over the next few days, the bitter sarcasm dripping from that line as it plays through my head. After stuffing myself with pretentious Capitol delicacies, I leave for my room and immediately fall asleep in the plush bed after changing into a pair of light, baggy black shorts and a loose grey t-shirt.

Morning comes, and I surprise myself that I slept for at least 12 hours. I didn't think sleep would come easy at all. After showering briefly and changing into dark navy jeans and a short-sleeved white shirt, I follow my nose to breakfast, the smell of bacon drawing me to it. I'd only had bacon once before in my entire life. Again, surprising myself that I could remember a small thing like that. I stuff my face with as much food as I can handle before Katniss finally speaks to me.

"Hey, Peeta, look! The Capitol... We're here!" She calls from a window at the other side of the table. I get up, feeling heavy from the food, and look out with her. She's far too enthusiastic about this whole thing, considering she's here to save her sister from the horrors of the arena. It's not exactly a holiday.

"Mm..." I hum as I turn my head, facing away from the sea of freaks eagerly awaiting our arrival in one of the many, many train stations of the Capitol. I can see Katniss smiling and waving from the corner of my eye. I roll my eyes. I've spent… What, 11 years of my life loving this girl against my mind's will, and now she's pissing me off after less than 2 minutes of interaction. Maybe admiring her from afar was the only way I could love her. What do I care, anyway? We'll probably be dead within a week. Maybe I'm not mad at her. Maybe I'm mad at circumstance. Yeah, that must be it. I'm not shallow by any means, and I know her looks weren't the only thing I fell in love with while watching her over the years. Yes. I'm definitely mad at circumstance. Or myself.

No. Definitely circumstance.

_Keep telling yourself that, Peeta._


	3. Chapter 2: Aspicio

My lack of interest makes everything go by fast. Because the next time I'm aware of what's happening, I'm staring at a lit match, standing next to Katniss infront of our stylists, Simmer and Tortilla, I think their names were. What ridiculous names the Capitol people have.

"So Cinna… Are you sure this is safe?" Katniss pipes up, looking at the open flame, sharing my discomfort. We're both stood in skin-tight black outfits that vaguely resemble coal. The same as every year. Nothing to make us stand out. And I'm glad, because I don't want to be recognised as a threat, as a weakling, as anything at all in this sick competition. Because that wouldn't be me.

"Of course it is. Neither I or Portia would put our favourite tributes in any danger." Cinna, Katniss's stylist responds, twirling the match very slightly. So his name is Cinna, and my female stylist is called Portia. Simmer and Tortilla, Cinna and Portia. To be fair, I was pretty close, to say I hadn't been paying attention to anything these last two days.

"What he said! The two of you. Will. Sparkle. No, you'll burn. Brighter than the stars in the Capitol sky! These people would be mad not to notice you!" Portia adds. Fantastic. Absolutely brilliant. Piecing together what Portia tried to tell me through the day, we'll be representing the fire that coal creates. She's right, who wouldn't notice that?

And that's when my heartbeat seems to pause. Because I see that someone has already noticed us, and we're not even on fire yet. A girl with wavy brown hair flowing from the winged golden helmed atop her head. She was shorter than me, and definitely younger, but I felt a vibe from her. Unstable and murderous. She was dressed entirely in gold armour. She looked like something straight from the history books in school. The name Athena springs to mind, something to do with the ancient Greek civilisations that thrived on Earth thousands of years prior to us.

As she turns from me, I pick up the gaze of who I can only assume is her district partner. Ridiculously tall with short, blonde hair ruffled and spiked at the front. Incredibly well-built and imposing. Intimidating, even. He was pretty far away, but his eyes were a cold, clear steel colour. It felt like they were boring into my very being as he glared. The name Ares came to mind. And if the vibes I felt from his partner were bad, these were worse. So much worse. Brutal and vicious, yet more stable than the girls. In my eyes, that was worse. Like he was entirely at one with being a monster, welcoming and accepting it. I must have trembled or shook slightly, because a devilish smirk spread across his lips and his eyes changed to a condescending glance. I faltered before the games even began. I let him know I was weak. A target. An easy kill. As he looked away and back to his team, my heartbeat resumed.

I'm pulled further from my internal monologue when I feel Portia dragging my arm towards our chariot. As the first few districts are directed onto the road to the president's mansion, I notice Cinna preparing to set us ablaze for the whole Capitol to see. I swallow my fear and try remain calm. Suddenly, it's our time to go. And as we follow the rest of the tributes, about to be displayed to the rest of the country, I feel Cinna light our capes with synthetic fire. The roar of the crowd is deafening, but when we're wheeled out for all to see, the chanting, screaming, shouting, it all stops.

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**Hi again, CaptainRelius here! I'll have the next chapter up in about a days time, so look out for it! Rating and reviewing helps a lot, and I**'**m more than happy to take suggestions and advice for the coming chapters. **


	4. Chapter 3: Conventus

**Mananged to get this chapter out a little faster than I'd hoped. Enjoy, rate & review, yadda yadda!**

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We blaze a trail of fire through the street, and all eyes are on us. The people of the Capitol look like cavemen, like they've never seen fire before. They begin to scream our names, chant District 12, litter the air with roses and small gifts. Katniss catches one of the roses, smelling it then waving back to the thrower. Then I realise I'm still looking dumbfounded at the whole thing. I slip Katniss's hand into mine, and lift them both up above our heads. The crowd goes wild. I swear, some people fainted. The usual happens now. We're directed into the courtyard of president Snow's mansion and he gives a brief speech about the odds being in our favour. No, if the odds were in my favour, I wouldn't be here. The chariots pull into the stables underneath the Training Centre and we dismount. Cinna and Portia bound up to us and tell us we looked fantastic. Katniss's enthusiasm was clearly boosted by the parade, as she starts prattling about how amazing we looked, how all eyes were on us, how our stylists have done a brilliant job with us. I find myself looking around absent-mindedly for the tall boy I had the staring match with earlier, though I don't know why. I guess I want to tell him I'm not weak, that he misjudged me. No, wait, why do I want to prove anything to him? He's our enemy. Making him think I'm weak might work in my favour. He might wait to kill me last, get the strong enemies out of the way first.

"Well! I think after that performance you two have earned a treat! Follow me, hurry hurry!" Effie trills, taking our wrists in her hands and leading us to the elevators. We all crowd into one and someone hits the button marked 12. I begin to wonder which district that boy came from. He looked strong, so he could be from District 7, where they produce lumber. He definitely seems like he could be a lumberjack. I wish I'd paid attention when Effie played us the Reapings of the other districts. Oh well. The lift doors slide open and we step into the hallway. Effie shows us our individual rooms, though they look exactly the same. A fairly large room with a king-sized bed, a decent-sized bathroom facilitating the most high-tech showers available, a walk-in closet with clothes of every colour, style and design. They must find it hilarious, giving us these few days of luxury before we enter the arena and lose our humanity in the Games. After our rooms, Effie shows us the main living quarters. A grand room with multiple platforms, sitting areas, eating areas, recreation and entertainment areas. Effie and Haymitch leave and let us get prepared for dinner. After a few minutes of idle small talk, we head to our individual rooms. I wander around the room for a while, looking in the cupboards and drawers. I find books and various small devices, like torches and bottle openers. I look at the clock on the wall. It reads 19:28. I think Effie said dinner was at 8 o'clock sharp. I decide to get changed, not really needing a shower. Slipping into tight black trousers and a teal V-neck t-shirt, I go to leave. I opened the door and stepped out, looking down and turning to close the door. Turning again to leave, I bumped into something – or someone. I slowly looked up the clothed torso before me, before flinching involuntarily as I reached his face. The blonde boy from the parade. I backed up into the door frame, startled and frightened. A look of confusion spread amongst his features.

"The hell's got you all worked up, 12?" He asked, in a tone that was both curious and annoyed.

"I, um, ah…" I stuttered. Why am I stuttering? "I was… going to… Uh…" I continued. He took a step closer, and I tried to step further back into the door, to no avail. "What are... What are you doing here?" I finally manage to say. His expression changed again – back into that smirk he used at my discomfort earlier.

"I just wanted to talk. But if you've got somewhere to be, that's fine. I'll wait." He replied in a calmer, smooth voice, no doubt trying to calm me down. I was still terrified though. "Meet me on the roof at midnight." He turned to walk away, before pausing and whirling back. He extended his hand. "Cato. District 2." His eyes locked onto mine, expecting me to reply.

"P.. Peeta.. District 12…" I muttered nervously, reaching to accept his offer. His hand lunged forward, grabbing mine. It was huge compared to mine – practically smothering it with no effort. He grinned.

"Alright. The roof, at midnight. See you then, 12." He continued walking away, back down the hallway. I rubbed my hand slightly, hurting after Cato's brutal grip. I made my way to dinner, unable to remove the encounter from my mind. Katniss looked simple but elegant, in a white blouse and black ruffled skirt. Time goes by fast as we eat ridiculous amounts of ridiculous things. Haymitch tells us tomorrow is the first day of training, and we'll be expected down at the gym at 9am. I work up the courage to ask about the people from district 2. All I learn in return is that their tributes are called Careers. They train their whole lives, then they volunteer to take part in the Games. Effie tells us the girl from 2, Clove, is lethal and thought of by many as slightly insane. _I can believe that_, I think to myself. And then, Effie tells us the boy is worse. Brutal, vicious, remorseless. For some reason, this information doesn't go down as easily. Sure, he seemed like evil incarnate at the parade, but if he'd wanted, he could have just dragged me to the roof by my hair before dinner. Maybe it's an act, he's trying to fool me. Getting me to drop my guard. I make a mental note to be completely alert when I go to the roof later. _IF I go to the roof_, I correct myself. I could just not show up. He'd probably snap my neck the next day in training, though. I could ask Katniss to come with me as backup, but I doubt he'd appreciate that at all.

By the time we finish dinner, it's near enough to 10:30. I contemplate a short nap to refresh myself for whatever awaits on the roof. I strip off my dinner clothes and change back into the black shorts and grey shirt I've been sleeping in. I find a small alarm clock next to the bed and set it for 11:30. I fall asleep pretty fast.

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**So what do you expect to happen when gentle, caring Peeta goes to meet the brutish, violent Cato?**


	5. Chapter 4: Somnium

Chapter 4 - Somnium

My leg, bleeding heavily. My chest, heaving and hurting. My throat, stinging and burning. I hadn't stopped running for 15 minutes. Nicks and cuts littered my exposed skin, the branches and foliage whipping me as I crashed through the brush. I'd finally reached the clearing, and the blaze from the artificial sun was not welcome upon my skin. My final burst of energy ran out as I collapsed at the mouth of a glittering golden horn. The cornucopia. I crawled inside, all of my energy now gone. Hiding behind a crate at the back, in the shadows, I find slight comfort and an opportunity to rearrange my thoughts. _It's the showdown. Two of us are left. I've spent an hour evading capture. My leg is severely wounded. I have no supplies. The cornucopia was cleaned out by the Careers. Their supplies were destroyed in an explosion. I'm being hunted by—_

"Well, well! Look who left a trail of blood for me to follow! How thoughtful!" a voice calls. The loud banging on my pursuer's hands slamming on the metal walls of the cornucopia. Getting closer. Closer. "Lover boy. I'm surprised you managed to outrun me with that bad leg!" He laughs darkly. "You've been bad. Very, very bad. I don't like it when my toys disobey me." I wince, knowing what's coming. "You need to be punished."

"Just… Please, just end it! Kill me!" I cry out in despair. I don't want to be punished. I don't want to suffer any more. I feel myself curl up into a ball, my leg hurting more than ever. I feel a fresh rush of blood escaping down my thigh. Staring into the darkness, I can feel my sanity draining.

"There's no fun in that, lover boy." I hear his footsteps in the grass, coming closer. I notice the echo in his voice. He's inside the cornucopia now. "When I send your body back to district 12…" I swallow nothing harshly, my mouth dry with fear. And then I feel the hand lunging for my chest, grabbing my shirt. And pulling it. Tearing it off. The cool air of the shadowed space very welcome against my burning chest. It's short-lived, though. I haven't breathed out since I saw the hand, and I exhale quickly, and slowly inhale, relishing what could be my final breath. The glint of silver flashes close to my chest. The knife in his hand. The blade moves slowly towards my exposed chest, and I involuntarily cry out when the tip pierces my skin. I look up at my assailant's face. He's smirking again. With madness in his eyes. And… something else. I whimper as I feel the sharp knife dragging across my thin skin, over my slightly defined torso. He finally picks up from his last sentence. "… I want them all to know who claimed you, and ended your life." Warm blood snakes down my chest from the wound. I drop my heavy head to look at the damage. He'd carved a letter 'C' into my chest. His final marking. Even in death, I belonged to him.

"Cato… Please…" I beg. "Please, let me die now…" I felt my voice growing weaker with each word.

"Your call, 12. It's been fun." He replied, almost sad that the fun was coming to an end. The knife was raised once more, and brought down with merciless speed.

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**Hey all! If you're reading this, thanks for coming this far! We've got to a decent point in the story (in my opinion) for now. So I'd like to ask, how am I doing so far? Is there anything about my writing style you'd like me to change, any twists in the story you'd like to see? Please let me know, it helps a lot! Thanks!**


	6. Author's Note!

**Hey guys! Sorry if you thought this was the next chapter, but that'll be up in a few hours instead. A friend gave me an idea - I feel a little bad considering how little smut I've wrote thus far compared to how much I'd like to have. **

**So my proposition is this. I'd like to write oneshots as separate stories, based on certain chapters - the first one being Somnium - in which I'll describe a different, (highly likely to be Cato/Peeta smut) non-canon outcome. **

**If you think this is a good idea or you have a different idea, let me know through a review or PM.**

**Thanks!**


	7. Chapter 5: Adorior

**Sorry about the wait, but here's Chapter 5! Enjoy!**

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Launching myself bolt upright, I find myself screaming and covered in a layer of cold sweat. Panting, I instinctively run my hand over my chest, feeling for the scar Cato had marked me with. Nothing. I collapse backwards onto my bed, thin strands of hair glued to my forehead with sweat. I glance to the clock on the side-table. My breath is starting to return to normal. The time reads 00:12. My eyes shoot open and my breathing turns short and ragged once more. I overslept. The alarm didn't wake me. I fling myself out of bed, grabbing the nearest clothes available – the V-neck shirt and a pair of baggy black cargo shorts I'd left out after choosing tonight's dinner clothes. I run from the room, slamming the door behind me. I eventually reach the lift and impatiently wait for the doors to open. Hopping in, I slam the button for the roof and wait. And hope Cato isn't angry. Because I'd hate to be on the receiving end of his temper. _Ping. _The doors slide open as I reach the roof, running out and looking around, short of breath. I bend over slightly, hands on my knees, catching my breath.

"You're late, 12." He calls, causing me to straighten myself out and look around again. He's leaning against the wall at the side of the elevator doors, wearing a _very_ tight red t-shirt and black jeans. How did I miss him?

"I, I know, I'm sorry! I overslept, and…" I begin to explain, earning another confused look from him.

"It's fine, you're not that late. Why are you getting so worked up?" He asks, genuinely interested. I have no idea what to say to him, because I have no idea myself. Am I scared of him? Do I fear for my safety in case I piss him off? Do I not want him being disappointed in me? I'm snapped out of my train of thought by his voice. "… You alright? You're not in any trouble or anything, you know. I just want to talk to you." For some reason, this does calm me down.

"Yeah, um… I…" I managed to get out before gulping down more breath. The look on his face suggested he was getting bored with my nervousness.

"Right, 12, listen. I was talking with the other Careers. We want you in our group when the games start. You in?" He states, arms folded, looking at me expectantly. I'm lost for words. Why am I being asked to join the Careers? We haven't had our first day of training, so they know nothing of my skills, or apparent lack of. Being with the Careers guarantees me some safety and companionship during the games. But… I won't be able to protect Katniss.

Katniss.

My district partner. Could they be using me to get to her? But then again, they don't know her, or what she's capable of. Are they using me to find out?

"Well?" Cato asks again, clearly getting irritated. He steps forward, and just like before, I instinctively step back. He sighs. "Look, you don't have to answer now. Think about it, and let me know in training tomorrow."

"Okay…" I mumble. He walks past me to the elevator, patting my shoulder. I don't move until I hear the doors slide open, then close. I look up at the starscape above my head, the white twinkling gems littered across the midnight blue sky. They're momentarily comforting, running the idea of being a Career through my head, whilst reaching for the card key in my pocket. And my head drops when I realise it's not there. _Are you fucking kidding me? _I ask myself, checking every pocket available. I can picture it, hiding away in the pockets of the black trousers I wore for dinner. Audibly slamming the palms of my hands against my forehead, I turn back to the elevator. _I could ask Cato, _I think to myself. Everyone else will be asleep by now. My only viable option, I hesitantly press the button marked with a 2. The elevator ride feels like an eternity, but I finally arrive at his floor. The minute I step out, I can smell chocolate. I follow my nose, ending up in the kitchen. And sure enough, he's stood facing away from me. I open my mouth to speak, but I get cut off instantly.

"You got an answer now, 12?" He asks between sips of his drink.

"Um… Not exactly, but…" I begin. Again, I'm cut off.

"Then whatever you need, ask fast. I'm tired as hell."

"Well, uh... You see, I kind of… Forgot my room key when I left to meet you… So… is there anyone I can contact to get my door open?" I nervously ask, twitching my fingers. He turns, holding the mug with both hands and leaning back against the counter.

"Not until morning. Why are you asking me?"

"Well, um… I thought everyone else would be asleep by now…" My fingers are still twitching.

"Right. Well, you can stay here until morning. If you want."

"Oh, okay… Should I just settle on one of the sofas here?"

"If you want, but they're not that comfortable. Stay in my room." His voice deepened further.

_That was an order, _I think to myself. My stomach begins to knot. I don't exactly want to spend a night with a guy who's going to kill me in a few days. "Um… Okay, but only if it's no trouble…" I reply, hoping he'd see sense and tell me to stay on the sofa.

"Nah. Follow me." He says with that I think is a smirk. I tense, unsure of whether to follow or make a run for it. Where would I go? I'm locked out of my room and by extension, the living quarters. I follow him to his room. He opens the door, letting me walk in first. His room's pretty clean, which I didn't expect. No clothes strewn on the floor, like mine. "You need anything to sleep in?" He asks as he pushes the door shut, heading towards his walk-in closet. He gets a pair of black pajama bottoms. When I don't respond, he glares at me slightly, unnerving me somewhat.

"I, uh… I'll just sleep in these. Thanks, though." I reply. He nods and grabs the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head. A pang of jealously runs through me at the sheer sight of his, what I can only describe as, Herculean physique. I had a fairly strong build myself, from years of work at the bakery – lifting sacks of flour, heavy trays of bread – but he put me to shame.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer." He said, almost laughing. The friendliest tone I've heard him use so far. Is this what he's like when he doesn't have anyone to impress? I stood awkwardly while he unbuckled his belt and dropped his jeans to the floor. I looked down to avoid any accidental eye contact. But I couldn't stop my eyes drifting ever so slightly to look at him in his entirety. Aside from the tight black boxers he wore. Again, a pang of jealously ran through me. Whatever he was hiding in there, it looked pretty big.

_Woah, hold up. _Was I SERIOUSLY just thinking that? I've been straight all my life. I think. No, I'm sure of it.

"Turn away if it's making you uncomfortable." He idly murmured. But I don't. As he hops into the pajama bottoms, what I think is a smirk spreads across his lips. He heads towards the bed after flicking the lights off. Pulling the covers back, he rolls over to his side and pulls the covers up, lying on his side, facing away from me. I swallow my pride and before heading over and tucking myself in. I lay on my side too, back to back with him. I can't drop the awkward feeling, though. I'm finally drifting off to sleep, when he decides to ask me something. "Hey, 12."

"Yeah?" I ask tiredly.

"Did you like what you saw?" He responded. I could practically feel the smirk pulling across his lips.

"Um... What do you mean?" I ask, naïve as always. Then I feel him shuffling. I convinced myself he was just getting comfortable. And that's when I felt his hand sliding down my back.


	8. Chapter 6: Peto Vos

_What the HELL is he doing?!_ I scream inside my head.

"Wha… what are you doing?" I find myself shivering at his touch, despite how much I don't want it. I feel his hand slip under the hem of my shirt, and then start slithering back up to my shoulders.

"Why, don't you like it?" He replies, while shuffling himself closer to me. Then, his hot breath glides over my left ear and neck.

"Alright, stop, stop, seriously! What's going on?" I flip myself so I'm sitting up, and I find myself panting. I try glare at him. "Come on, answer me!" I'm getting angry now. I feel my brow furrow as his silent smirking aggravates me more. "C'mon already!"

"You know, you're cute when you're flustered." He chuckles. I feel a warm blush glowing from my cheeks against my will. "You liked being touched by another man, didn't you-" He begins, but I angrily cut him off.

"I'm straight!" I blurt.

"So am I, what's your point?" He fires back. I think I can detect anger in his voice. _Good, get angry, jackass._

"Reeeeally fucking unlikely. Look, I'm leaving." I snap condescendingly. "I'd rather spend the night on the cold floor outside my room than being molested by you." I slide myself off the bed and make to leave, but I feel a warm hand vice-gripping my wrist.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?!" He barks, dragging me back into the bed effortlessly. His other arm wraps itself around my chest, pinning me against his chest while I thrash. Uselessly. This complete change in temperament scares me, thoughts of Effie warning me about his brutality flashing into my mind.

"Let me go! You can't—I'll tell the Peacekeepers!" I cry out in panic. I don't care if I sound like a child, I'm terrified and feel as helpless as one.

"Fat lot of good that'll do you. Pretty much all of the Peacekeepers in the building are from district 2. I can get away with anything and everything." He scoffs, moving his mouth close to my neck. His tongue flicks out, wetting the skin at the base.

"Stop that! That's disgusting!" I yelp, writhing about. I'm panting again, having worn myself out in this futile struggle. He's far too strong for me. And then I feel his teeth sinking into the same spot, and warm, fresh blood comes trickling out as I howl in pain.

"Mine." He growls, pulling me even closer. His tongue flicks out again, lapping the blood up. I cringe. "You're mine now, 12. Got that? This mark means you belong to me. Nobody else. You are mine to do with as I please." He says directly into my ear, making me shiver once again.

"I.. Why.. Are you.." I try to speak, my mind hazy.

"Stop whining. Shirt off. Now." He commands. And to my surprise, I comply without a second thought, helping him slide the V-neck from my body. "Not bad, 12. Not bad at all." I feel his hands running over my torso, familiarising himself with his… newest claim. "C'mon, get in bed properly." I nodded and slid under the covers, facing away from him again. This is surreal. I can't process what's happening. I can't process why I'm following his commands without hesitation. And then he pulls me closer, the skin of my back pressing into his bare chest. His arms lock around my waist, negating any chance of escape. "You're actually kinda cosy, y'know, 12. I could get used to this." He murmurs into my ear softly.

There it is again. The sudden change in attitude. Less than a minute ago he was being commanding and dominant. Suddenly, he's being cutesy and sweet. This is scarier than when he's angry. If he can flick his emotions off and on like a switch, what's to stop him snapping my neck while I sleep? I can feel myself beginning to panic. My breath becomes ragged. I feel cold sweat forming on my forehead. I start to shiver and wriggle, becoming increasingly uncomfortable. He moves one of his hands. I freeze. _What's he doing? _He slides his hand up my chest, right to my neck. _This is it. He's going to snap my neck. _I want to thrash, struggle, flail my way from his grip, but I can't. Fear keeps me rooted in place. I try convincing myself that if I get away from him, I'll live. If I can override my fear with hope, I have a chance of escaping. But it doesn't work. Tears form in the corners of my eyes. _This can't happen. Not before the Games. If I die now I can't protect Katniss. _His hand moves again as I close my eyes, accepting my fate. But his large, rough hand glides over my cheek, and up to my hair. And he begins running his fingers through it, stroking it. My breathing rate decreases almost instantly. He's calming me down. The monster that instilled the fear into me, is removing it. His hand moves back down to my cheek, stroking it with his thumb.

"Calm down. I'm here." He whispers firmly into my ear. "I won't let you get hurt." I'm sure it's just my imagination, but I feel the sweat from my forehead lifting into the air. "You're safe."

And with that, I stop shaking. All symptoms of my panic attack dissipate into the warm air of the night. How on Panem could he have done that? It usually takes hours for anyone to calm me if I have a panic attack. But with 3 sentences, he drew out all of the fear inside me and replaced it with… Warmth. I feel safe. His arms lock around my waist again. I find myself snuggling into his form.

"Um… Thank you, Cato…" I meekly reply. _No, why am I thanking him? It's because of him I had that panic attack in the first place. _But I can't bring myself to fight against the gratitude I feel.

"It's fine. Now, try and sleep, Peeta." He says sleepily, nuzzling his head into my neck.

_He just called me Peeta for the first time._ I tell myself. And for some reason, I feel a smile tugging at my lips. I actually feel safe. I'm still confused as hell, but I feel safe.

The smile stays on my face as I feel myself drifting into a deep sleep.

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**LOTS of smut planned for the next few chapters, don't you guys worry.**


	9. Chapter 7 - Prima Electio

Morning comes as swiftly as I fell asleep. I glance down. My eyes are half closed, but when I see two thick, muscled arms wrapped around my waist, they snap open in shock. Gentle snoring vibrates the hairs on the back of my neck as I lie in the embrace of Cato, the male Career tribute from District 2. I'm initially confused as to why I'm here, but it comes back to me as I lie here quietly. _Cato asked to talk to me on the roof. I overslept. Cato asked me to join the Careers. I didn't answer him. I forgot my room key. He invited me to sleep here overnight. I… I don't remember much after that… _And right on cue, Cato nuzzled his chin onto my shoulder with some force, causing me to yelp out in pain. _Oh, and he marked me, claimed me as his own and his only. _

"Mmm… Morning, 12." Cato groans, my cry of pain rousing him from sleep. He pulls me close, pressing our half-exposed bodies together. "I slept like a dream last night… How about you?" he asks, placing a kiss on the nape of my neck. I involuntarily shiver again. Why can this brute of a boy make me quiver in pleasure with such simple actions? _I am NOT gay. I love Katniss. Not this guy. _I repeat my new mantra over and over in my head. I hear him growl slightly when we both realise I haven't answered.

"Um…" I begin. _What do I tell him? I was actually pretty comfortable last night. I felt warm and safe for the first time in years. If I tell him I enjoyed it, he'll only get worse. Right? He'll start trying to do… Other things. So, I'll lie to him. _"Yeah, I slept great too.." I finish. Against my better judgement, I tell the truth. I can't help the feeling I was betrayed by my own mouth. And I have no idea why.

"Good to hear.. We should do this more often." I can practically _feel _the smirk on his face. He's getting some kind of kick from this. From trying to make me into something I'm not. "Hm… Oh, crap!" he exclaims, sitting up and releasing me from his arms. "We're supposed to be in training soon. Get ready."

"Oh, right… I'll head back to my room now. Thanks for, um.. Letting me-" I shyly begin to say, but as with Cato's usual brash style, I'm cut off.

"Just get ready here. I'm sure I have a spare outfit for you. Go shower." And the commanding, powerful tone in his voice is back. "Go on!" He barks. I nod, stiffened with nerves. I move myself to his bathroom, closing and making sure to lock the door behind me. I slowly unbutton the cargo shorts I slept in and pull them, along with my underwear, down to the floor. As soon as I step in the shower, it whirrs into life, blasting me with short jets of scalding water, then various soaps and foams, then more water, followed by quick bursts of shampoo from all angles, completely covering my hair, and one final steaming torrent of water, eliminating any trace of lather from my body. As I turn to leave, alternating cold and hot blasts of air and some strange white powder barrage my naked form. The doors flick open sharply, as if telling me get out. I step onto a warm mat, noticing I'm completely bone dry. These Capitol showers may not be as enjoyable as a long soak in a hot bath at home, but they're 100% more efficient. Cato's hammering on the door interrupts my appreciation. "Open up, 12. Now." Without a second thought I grab a towel from the rack, fasten it around my waist and unlock the door. No more than a second after it swings open, nearly hitting me in the face. Cato stands in the doorway, his broad chest exposed. "Well, 12? Are you gonna let me shower in peace, or do I have to drag you into that shower with me?" His brutish hand reaches out and cups my face. "Because I don't really want to have to… Break you. Not yet." His devilish smirk comes back, and I remember the look in his eyes in that dream. The emotion I couldn't figure out. He starts pulling me closer to him, and I lose the shredded remains of what nerves I have left, and a hot blush comes over my face.

"E-excuse me!" I stutter, bolting out of the bathroom and pulling the door closed. I can hear him laughing on the other side as I slide down against the wall. And then I notice… I've been turned on. The tent in my towel is a _minor _giveaway. My cheeks burn and my breath is short. He barely touched me, yet he's sent me into a state of sensual overdrive. I get the feeling in the back of my head he's more than I can handle. I fear the time when he actually decides to 'break' me, as he called it. I shake off the feelings as I hear the shower buzzing and humming. I pull myself up and move to the uniforms laid neatly on the bed. I assume the smaller one is for me. Mine looks like that of a 10-year old. I look around for my underwear so I can get changed into the training uniform. They're still in the bathroom. I gingerly test the handle of the door, finding that it's locked. _Fuck me... _I mutter in my head in annoyance, part of me hoping that Cato doesn't have psychic mind-reading powers. I decide to skip wearing underwear, despite my conscience telling me it's a bad idea. I pull on the tight black trousers, zipping them up VERY carefully. As I come to the shirt, I notice the shoulder has '2' emblazoned on it. _I can probably swap it downstairs in the gym. I'm sure they have spares. _I tell myself, sliding it over my head, poking my arms through the sleeves and feeling it settle and hug every part of my torso.

I hear the door unlock, and Cato comes strolling out in the nude. Bone dry. I twist my head to look away out of both courtesy and awkwardness. I hear his cocky laughter getting closer as he strides past me, reaching into of the drawers and pulling out underwear and socks. _Why the hell am I paying attention to this? _I ask myself.

"So, um, Cato… Do you mind if I go wait downstairs? Or outside?" I ask nervously. He frowns at me in response.

"Why? Are you uncomfortable?" he enquires, pulling another pair of tight black boxers on.

"To be honest… Yeah, I kinda am."

"Oh. Well, good." He smirks. "Stay here." He sits on the side of the bed, putting his socks on.

_Why the hell should I? Does he enjoy making me nervous? _ As he stands and turns to get pick up his uniform, I take my chances and sprint to the door. I've barely taken two steps before his thundering footfalls begin, and a large, rough hand grabs me by the scruff of the neck. I turn out of fear, his icy cold eyes boring into my delicate blue ones. I ask with my eyes for mercy, but he only reacts by throwing me to the wall and pressing his muscular forearm to my throat.

"I've been very soft on you up until now, 12. I kinda feel like I need to be harsher on you if you're to… Break any bad habits. You understand?" I can only nod, with my windpipe nearly being crushed.

"S..orry.." I manage to choke out, my hands weakly clawing and flapping against his forearm. He nods curtly and pulls it away, to my great relief, but then his fist crashes into my stomach with brutal force, and I slump down the wall, winded, tears forming in my eyes. But, it teaches me a lesson. I won't defy Cato again. I'm like an untamed animal, and he is my master. I find solace in convincing myself that pain isn't the only way to learn from mistakes. Being realistic, it's all I can expect from someone as uncaring and brutal Cato. He continues getting changed into his training uniform. To be honest, it's as if he just sprayed it on from a can, the uniform hugging him in all the right places, highlighting his god-like physique.

"Come on. Time for training." He says abruptly before storming from the room, grabbing my wrist as he goes. After locking the door and sliding his card key into his pocket, we walk in silence to the elevator. The ride down to the gym floor is equally awkward, as some random female tribute with a 8 inscribed on her shoulder gets in. She's shorter than me, and ipso facto, Cato. She's standing closest to the elevator door, with her back to us. From the corner of my eye, I see Cato eyeing her, up and down, and nodding in satisfaction. She's actually pretty attractive, but she seems hostile. Not making any effort to make acquaintances with either of us. I can't blame her, really. There's a chance one of us will be killing her in a few days time. I know I wouldn't exactly be beaming about being friends with a to-be-murderer. I glance back to Cato, who's blatantly staring at her ass. His tongue flickers out and wets his lips. And for some reason, this irritates me.

"I'm your claim, not her…" I mumble inaudibly to myself, before realising I didn't just think that. She doesn't look at me, but Cato does. He cocks his head to the side, curiosity in his eyes. He raises an eyebrow, encouraging me to tell him what I said. I shake my head, looking away, still slightly mad at him. The beep of the elevator landing at the gym floor breaks the silence, me and the girl from 8 hurrying out without a second glance. Cato shortly follows, keeping in step with me.

"What did you say in the elevator?" He asks, glaring at me as we walk. I swallow nervously.

"Nothing, I was just… Singing. To myself." It's the best I can offer, because I'd never even dream of telling him what I really said. He nods with a smirk. He doesn't believe me. But he doesn't ask again as we walk together. As we enter the gym, the other tributes glance to us, then back to the woman telling us the rules and guidelines. Time passes pretty quickly, until we're told to disperse and check out whatever stations we want. I'm looking around, avoiding Cato's gaze as much as I can. He's stood with 3 other tributes in a group. I recognize one of them as the girl from before the parade. She's from District 2. I assume the other two are from either 1 or 4 – the other Career districts. _They're not important,_ I tell myself. Looking around, I see some small, fake trees in a forest-like station. I can see pots of paint and other materials on the table beside it. If that's a camouflage station, I'll be happy. I do a lot of cake decorating and icing at home in the bakery, and I enjoy painting when I get the chance, so camouflage should be pretty easy.

"Peeta! Over here!" I turn and see Katniss waving over to me. She's by the hunting and traps station, which I've always thought of as pretty interesting. Plus, I haven't spoken to Katniss much at all since we got here. I begin to make my way over to her, when, inevitably…

"12. Get over here." a booming voice calls from the other side of the room. Cato, stood with the other Careers. I look back and forth between the two. I'd prefer to go talk to Katniss, but I don't want to incur Cato's wrath again. Katniss is looking at me, slightly concerned. Cato and his group are glaring at me impatiently.

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**Alright, decision time for you readers and reviewers! Do you think Peeta should ignore Katniss and go over to Cato and his group? Or should he try bridge the gap with Katniss and risk incurring Cato's wrath? Or something else entirely? Let me know in a review or a private message. I can't continue with the story otherwise! ****  
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**In other news, I've finally got round to posting the alternate ending to Chapter 4 - Somnium. It's called 'Tomorrow, we hunt'. Obviously it's M-rated and features Cato and Peeta. So go find it! **

**Ciao ciao for now!**


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